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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471371">Taking Treats</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu'>OKami_hu</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ope_ope_oppenheimer/pseuds/ope_ope_oppenheimer'>ope_ope_oppenheimer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Implied Consent, M/M, Metaphysical Sex, Oral Sex, Somnophilia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:13:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ope_ope_oppenheimer/pseuds/ope_ope_oppenheimer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley finds a real treat waiting for him in the upstairs bedroom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Taking Treats</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aside from paper, the waste bin is full of discarded light-pink packaging, the logo of a fresh new bakery that had just opened down the street embezzled onto the surface. Cakes— mousses of various pastel colors, tarts full of fruits glazed with sugar, and soft sponges topped with freshly whipped cream— are lovingly served on porcelain plates, each covered with a glass dome to protect them from the elements.</p>
<p>A select few plates, however, have the remains of crumbs and cream staining their floral design. In the bedroom, one lies on the nightstand accompanied by an empty wine glass. And next to it, is a man sprawled out on the bed. A book rests on his chest, which is slowly rising and falling along with his breath, a finger marking the page. It is clear that he had fallen asleep while reading. The crystal and porcelain on the nightstand catch the dusk light, glimmering like stars.</p>
<p>The chime of the bell over the entrance downstairs is never quite able to reach the bedroom, though that hardly poses a problem. The only person who’d cheerfully ignore the ‘closed’ sign on the door knows where to look if he decides to drop in and finds the shop empty. The stairs creak under his weight as he makes his way up because his friend is nowhere to be found. Only an abundance of cake. Crowley wonders if his angel has eaten himself into a coma. </p>
<p>And it looks like he did. Crowley leans against the doorframe with a fond smile; Aziraphale can’t see it after all. The demon takes in the relaxed form, the softly rising and falling chest, the blond hair set aflame by the dying light. He has missed this celestial bastard so much.</p>
<p>Crowley tiptoes to the bed and cautiously removes the book from Aziraphale’s hand, making sure to mark the page before setting the volume aside. The angel's fingers twitch ever so slightly at his precious book being taken away from him. He sleeps with the thing almost as a child would with a stuffed animal— it's not the first time that Crowley has found Aziraphale clutching a hardcover against his chest. </p>
<p>The demon sinks down on the edge of the bed, pulls the shades off his dignified nose, and stares. He knows this face well and yet, he can’t seem to get enough of it. He loves every detail from the clear forehead to the round chin. </p>
<p>Between those, the angel’s lips are way too tempting. Crowley leans closer and kisses them.  </p>
<p>The kiss is sweet, remnants of cream and sugar still on the soft pink lips. There's a cacophony of flavors on the tongue, only serving to prove how much the angel has indulged himself in gluttony. The bittersweetness of matcha, coffeecake, and dark chocolate mingles with the refreshing aroma of lemons, raspberries, and cream. On any other set of lips, it would be a disturbing clash. Yet on Aziraphale's, all of them seem to meld together perfectly, despite their contrast.</p>
<p>Aside from the coffee, Crowley himself doesn’t much care for all the different aromas, rich or light - he doesn’t eat, not really. But he could sit here and taste his angel for days, delight in that luxurious sweetness that so suits him; and since he’s a demon, he can almost taste the sheer joy of indulgence. Aziraphale, as a whole, is a treat, and Crowley finds himself hungering. </p>
<p>He steals another kiss, then moves downwards, to kiss those soft hands. The skin holds the scent of old paper and ink, as well as the whipped cream's, and Crowley’s insides tighten exquisitely as he imagines his angel licking the sweet stuff from his fingers, pink tongue lapping delicately at the tips, like a pleased cat. Aziraphale should lick things more often, actually. Preferably in front of Crowley.</p>
<p>The demon squints up, curious if his actions have stirred the angel from his slumber.</p>
<p>Aside from the movement underneath his eyelids to indicate slight disturbance, Aziraphale doesn't seem to be much bothered. He's in such deep sleep that his body is soft and pliant for any of Crowley's touch. There are a few writing calluses on Aziraphale's fingers, but nothing else mars his flawless skin. The angel has always been a lover, not a fighter. Even in Eden, he had given his flaming sword away without a second thought. But had it been a flaming book, perhaps he would have been much more reluctant. </p>
<p>The angel shifts a little, his body leaning ever so slightly towards the left to be more comfortable. The sun casts an amber glow to his face that makes him far more saintly and pure than he ordinarily appears to be. As if he had freshly descended from the heavens, instead of eons ago.</p>
<p>Crowley hesitates for a moment; he’s a demon but he’s reluctant to destroy beautiful things - and a sleeping angel is as beautiful as it gets. But since he’s a demon, Crowley also loves to get what he wants, especially by a little trickery. If Aziraphale wakes and has objections, Crowley will listen but until then -</p>
<p>He moves with the silent grace of his more demonic form, toward the angel’s feet and proceeds to ease the polished shoes off of them. He shakes his head with a grin at the sight of the tartan socks; he never saw the appeal of the pattern, the angel can keep them. 

Once the shoes are off, placed neatly by the foot of the bed, the demon shifts forward and- stops. He rolls his eyes, berating himself for being stupid, then flicks his wrist - and the angel’s pants simply vanish, only to reappear on a nearby chair, perfectly folded. Aziraphale might forgive certain things but never any wrinkles on his clothes. </p>
<p>Crowley stares at the target, still hidden by the underwear, and salivates like a laboratory dog. Soon he’ll sate his cravings but for a moment, he just eyes the prize, savoring the moment.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s cotton boxers don't hide the faint bulge. The angel is not so large when soft, his beauty more akin to that of a Grecian statue than some obscene seventies pornography. The sign of arousal, however slight, hints that perhaps the angel is not as pure as he seems in his dreams. He certainly doesn't look the part right now, with legs slightly spread, vulnerable, and open to manipulation; the unconscious Aziraphale is perhaps a better tempter than most demons.</p>
<p>Crowley is definitely tempted and he had never been the one to decline. He presses his hands together and says a heartfelt thanks to God, who, probably against Her better judgment, allows them to be together, in existence, on Earth, and in this very bedroom, about to engage in the sweetest sin. </p>
<p>Then, he snaps again and the boxers join the pants on the chair and Aziraphale is gloriously naked below the waist - save for the socks, of course - and just a little aroused, and Crowley is drawn in like a fly to sugar. He hunches over the angel’s body, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the sparse curls framing the carefully sculpted Effort, and finally, the twin tips of his mostly human but still forked tongue begin to trace the creamy skin.</p>
<p>The taste explodes in his mouth, soft, sweet, and buzzing like an electric current - at such proximity, Aziraphale’s grace has a flavor and there’s no demon who wouldn’t want to feast on it. Crowley can’t help but sigh with a shudder, his breath a warm gust against the angel’s crotch; and he begins to lick, with long sweeps of his tongue, teasing the sensitive organ into fullness.</p>
<p>The angel's breath hitches a little at the touch of a slick wet tongue on him. His head tips to the side, and a little noise escapes his throat. No doubt his dream had just become much more intense. Too quick, the cock before Crowley rises to attention, poking eagerly at the forked tongue. Aziraphale has always loved the demon's tongue. It completely overwhelms him during a kiss, but when it's in between his <em>legs</em>... </p>
<p>A drop of clear slick seeps forward from the tip, sweeter than syrup. The organ gives a desperate twitch, almost pleading for Crowley to have mercy. Despite his responsive body, Aziraphale remains deep in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of his lover's gentle touches.</p>
<p>“I love you, angel,” Crowley breathes, almost despite himself; but the statement is true, it has been true for six thousand years and it will never stop to be the truth. He loves Aziraphale for his goodness and his badness, his wit, his gentle personality, and his body, too, the corporation he inhabits with ease which is answering his call so easily. </p>
<p>Crowley laps the shimmering drop up and moans; the taste is overwhelming and he wants more, he wants it all - but perhaps, he could have something different. He rises and seizes Aziraphale’s leg by the knee-joint, gently lifting it to rest it on his shoulder. His hand slides along the upper thigh, on the outside, then the inside, then out again, only to round a shapely buttock and finally dwell between the full half-globes, curious to find out if the Effort is accompanied with certain other assets.</p>
<p>At the touch on his sensitive and too-warm thigh, Aziraphale gives an unconscious, yet more prominent protest in the form of a whine before settling down again. The hole, light pink in color, is twitching, sensitive against the open air. It is almost an invitation for Crowley to touch. </p>
<p>Aziraphale looks like a feast ready to be devoured at this moment, spread and unconscious and oh so trusting. But given how tight the hole is (pure and almost virginal, just for Crowley), it would take a miracle to not hurt him and rudely awaken him. Or some patience.</p>
<p>Patience is,  however, something Crowley has infinite supplies of. With another miracle, his fingers glisten with lube and he smears fat drops of the subtly scented gel - Aziraphale’s favorite - over the quivering hole, fingertips moving, circling the muscle gently.  </p>
<p>“Hush, angel,” Crowley murmurs, settling between those heavenly thighs more comfortably. “I’m here. I’m gonna give you everything you want.”</p>
<p>He adds more lube, almost too much - even if there’s a general agreement that there’s no such thing as too much lube - and he begins to slip a finger in with agonizing slowness. He regrets having only two hands. It’d be so nice to hold both those pale legs apart, tease both asshole and cock and also slip greedy hands under that shirt to grope that soft chest but he has to make do with what he has.</p>
<p>The angel lets out a low moan as he's breached, his hole clenching impossibly tight just around a finger. Tighter than he would have been if he were awake. Usually, Aziraphale makes a conscious effort to relax and allow Crowley inside him. Unconscious, however, there's a natural resistance in the muscles. His face, so serene before, is flushed now, brows knitted together.</p>
<p>Crowley sets an easy rhythm - he has time and his hand won’t tire if he doesn’t want it to. He breaches the ring of muscle again and again, until the slide is effortless, until Aziraphale’s body settles back into being pliant again.</p>
<p>The demon really hopes he can manage to go through with the plan because having his angel like this, soft and malleable, quiet and motionless, unwittingly yielding to the intrusion, unconsciously submitting to a dark being, so vulnerable, corruptible, and innocent, is something that makes his useless heart beat out of his chest and turns his blood hotter than hellfire.</p>
<p>So once his finger stops meeting resistance, he slowly eases a second one into the slick-shining hole.</p>
<p>Sweet lips finally part into half a sigh as the angel is slowly stretched open.  Aziraphale's body responds more and more to the touch as Crowley begins to reach deeper into more sensitive parts. There's no rush, no fire of desire that needs to be quenched, no needy whines of 'now' and 'I'm ready'. Only absolute obedience. </p>
<p>And like this, the pink ring stretched open on two fingers, glistening with slick, Aziraphale is more than ready. Unconscious, with pure features, he looks like a doll; a puppet for Crowley to manipulate however he wishes to.</p>
<p>He’s definitely not going to resist the temptation; the angel is his, after all. Crowley spreads his fingers, crosses them, tests the resistance; adds a little more lube just in case, and continues preparing his celestial possession. His fingers move in all the way, seeking that miraculous spot that, when touched, never fails to draw a delicious moan from Aziraphale, when awake. </p>
<p>The angel’s interest has wilted while Crowley was paying attention to his hole but the demon hopes that he can bring it back to full hardness again with a few gentle taps at the prostate. </p>
<p>“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers. “You should sleep more often. Especially in the nude.” He chuckles to himself and crooks his fingers.</p>
<p>Aziraphale's entire body shifts, unconsciously bucking against the touch inside him. A moan escapes him, his cock immediately swelling once more from the stimulation. His breathing is less steady now, and there's movement beneath his closed eyes that hint that his sleep isn't exactly as restful as it should be, but his body remains still nonetheless. </p>
<p>And it seems, with the focused stimulation on his sweet spot, the angel relaxes more and more around the demon's fingers. It is as if Aziraphale is greedy for more, for Crowley's cock; even in sleep's embrace he still seeks the pleasure the demon is always willing to provide.</p>
<p>“You want me,” Crowley breathes, licking his lips. He shifts eagerly and his clothes vanish, leaving him naked and eager; his cock darkened by desire. He slides the leg off his shoulder and draws them both over his thighs instead; then smears the remaining lube from his fingers over himself and teasingly traces Aziraphale’s hole with the tip. </p>
<p>“You shall have me. My beautiful angel, so ready, and entirely<em> mine</em>.” He begins to press against the ring of muscle, slow still; but his eyes are burning. He wouldn’t even mind Aziraphale waking; after all, at this point, the angel would hardly protest. But Crowley isn’t actively trying to wake him, though he doesn’t stop until he’s fully sheathed in that heavenly body that’s loose enough to let him in but tight enough to hold him with a secure grip, making him draw helpless, shuddering breaths.</p>
<p>The angel makes a noise, speaking unintelligibly in his sleep as Crowley slowly presses into him, to join their bodies. Clear slick is forced out of the bare cock  between their bellies when the demon's thick length sinks completely inside, staining the angel's abdomen. </p>
<p>Legs loosely wrapped around Crowley's waist, Aziraphale's body is in the perfect position to be manipulated. Should the demon wish, he can fold the angel in half and drive deep into him, or flip him over and rut. Sleepy lips can scarcely protest, and there are certainly no complaints from Aziraphale as he's used as a beautiful hole for Crowley to fuck.</p>
<p>The demon contemplates a wide variety of other poses too, analyzing every single one for several parameters like aesthetics, the angel’s pleasure, and of course, his own. But for now, he’s content with lazily rolling his hips, enjoying the easy slide and the soothing warmth.</p>
<p>“You’re so perfect, angel,” Crowley pants. “Even if you don’t do anything, you can please me.” He fondly runs his fingers over Aziraphale’s effort, which is certainly a sight now, finely crafted, flushed, weeping. Crowley carefully takes it into his hand and smears away the shining drop on the tip, then begins to play with the foreskin - Aziraphale has plenty of it. </p>
<p>A whimper escapes Aziraphale at the praise, even asleep, he's so responsive to sweet stimulation. And he's more responsive to Crowley than to anyone else. His weeping cock jolts and almost tries to push itself against the demon's hand, wanting more— of the touch, of the teasing, of anything and everything that Crowley can give him.</p>
<p>Crowley bites his lower lip and he moans in delight - he loves to see his angel responding to the pleasure, and the knowledge that he can make Aziraphale hot and bothered any time is a point of pride. His body urges him to go on and Crowley switches to a harsher rhythm, more forceful thrusts. His grip also tightens; he intends to milk the angelic cock until every last drop of celestial essence is spent, and smeared over Aziraphale’s soft belly. His free hand grips the angel’s hip and he aims for the sweet spot inside. </p>
<p>Each thrust of the cock inside him forces another sigh out of the angel, another whine and whimper until his eyes flutter open. His voice still hoarse from sleep, he lets out a deep moan as he rubs his eyes, gazing up at Crowley in a half-asleep daze. His mouth is forced open with another thrust, but this time, instead of a moan, it's a name on his lips. "Crowley..." And then louder again, less tired, and more in surprise, almost in admonition. </p>
<p>"Crowley! What— oh, my goodness—" Whatever protest that the angel might have is broken when his prostate is stimulated once more. And the noise that escapes him instead of words is enough to bring a full flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.</p>
<p>“Hi angel!” Crowley grins brightly. “Dropped in, saw all the cake wraps. Found some hot buns and thought you wouldn’t mind if I helped myself!” He rolls his hips. “You don’t mind, do you? My darling angel. Always so ready to share.”</p>
<p>He squeezes the cock in his hand with just the right amount of pressure. “Good evening, by the way. Have you slept well?”</p>
<p>“Hnngh—“ Aziraphale lets out another groan, certainly not expecting pleasure so sudden and sweet. The tight grip on him is perfected after their countless times together partaking and indulging with each other. He takes a shuddering breath to speak in the midst of a thrust, “I’ll have you know it’s quite— nngh— rude, to come in unannounced!”</p>
<p>Crowley’s grin intensifies. “I haven’t yet, but I’m working on it!” His hand abandons Aziraphale’s cock to roll his balls instead. </p>
<p>“I wasn’t aware I had to- ah - announce myself at the door. Usually, you welcome me with open arms. And sometimes, open pants. You’ve become quite a lewd little angel. My good influence is showing.” He withdraws halfway only to slam back into the welcoming body. </p>
<p>“How about we- nnh! - finish this, and then you can reprimand me all you want.”</p>
<p>“I’m n-not lewd! I’m simply trying to be a good host!” The angel stammers, tilting his head back as he enjoyed Crowley’s gentle touch on his balls. The demon is certainly never a selfish lover. Aziraphale’s arms wind around Crowley on an inward thrust, trying to hold him closer. If only they could join together in more ways than one. In more than just the flesh. He sighs, “so d-deep, how long have you..?”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t checking the clock,” Crowley shrugs. “But I kissed you, you didn’t wake, then I undressed you and properly prepared you, which didn’t take all that long, because you’re- a good host.” He smirks again. </p>
<p>“You look so delicious, spread open by my fingers. Next time I’ll use my tongue. And now-” He grabs Aziraphale’s hips firmly with both hands, “If you need further help, then help yourself, I’m going to give some loving attention to your prostate.”</p>
<p>The praise brings even more of a flush to Aziraphale’s cheeks, his cock twitching at the positive attention. He’s dripping so much that he doesn’t think he needs to touch himself, so he only wraps his legs around Crowley’s waist, bringing them closer together. He can feel how hard the demon is, and feeling a little more mischievous, he squeezes around the length inside him as Crowley draws back, wanting, needing him inside. He cranes upward and presses a kiss to Crowley’s shoulder. “If you had announced yourself, I would have eaten you along with the cakes; and I would have prepared for you beforehand.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” It’s getting harder to think, but Crowley valiantly tries. “Sounds good. Next time, I’ll ring that bell until you come running. Oh angel-! Oh fuck, you feel so good…!” His thrusts are firm and short now, bordering on violent; he’s getting closer.</p>
<p>“Mm— you’re so thick, so deep, pressing up just perfect—“ The angel’s breath is hot on Crowley’s skin as his moans are getting louder. He’s close too, his body wound tight purely from the demon’s work. Still, he bites his lip, tries to hold himself back. He wants to cum together with Crowley. “Kiss me.”</p>
<p>It means stopping for a moment to change position and Crowley whines but he obeys because he wants to kiss Aziraphale, slip his inhumanly long tongue down the angel’s throat, and swallow his cry as he comes. His lanky frame slots perfectly with the angel’s soft corporation and Crowley kisses him, long and deep.</p>
<p>“Together?” he asks, breathless, hips moving restlessly.</p>
<p>For a moment, all of Aziraphale is filled with Crowley. The serpentine tongue in his mouth, the long cock in his hole, and his soul within his heart. “Together,” comes an equally out of breath response, fingers gripping tighter.</p>
<p>Crowley pries them loose, however, for the sake of lacing them together. </p>
<p>“Alright,” he murmurs. “Look into my eyes, angel. We’re going to come at the same moment and we’re going to see each other truly.” It sounds poetic, and- it kind of is, really. In moments of profound connection, they are able to do that, see past their human guises, and glimpse the eternal beyond. </p>
<p>Crowley changes pace; his hips undulate more slowly, but with each thrust, he hits home. It won’t take long to reach the peak, from where they could fall together.</p>
<p>This is what he should have done a few millennia ago, fallen with Crowley with their hands laced together in intimacy. What use are his wings when Crowley can bring him to higher skies and bliss than he himself ever could? Heresy, he knows, but love begets heresy and madness. Blue eyes are wide open, staring into slitted yellow ones of temptation as he gasps at an inward thrust. </p>
<p>"I'm close, I'm so close..."</p>
<p>“Yes,” Crowley moans, and his hips jerk.</p>
<p>“Angel, angel, <em>Aziraphale</em>…!” With a shuddering gasp, he comes, the pleasure spreading through his body like fire, like light. His eyes are wide open, golden-tinted windows to his soul - he’s so vulnerable, a stern glance could kill him like an arrow to the heart.</p>
<p>Beyond the gold, he spreads dark wings wrought from space, adorned with stars and nebulas. Cosmic dust outlines his weightless body that is still perfect; his broken halo glows red-hot, like a sun’s surface. He’s ravaged but beautiful, and he opens his arms longingly, aching for the ultimate closeness he can never experience again; but he’d take what is offered to ease his yearning.</p>
<p>The perfect inversion of a biblical painting, the angel remains pure and golden beneath Crowley even in the throes of bliss. Wings are pinned onto the bed, feathers crushed against the down duvet as they bear the brunt of Crowley's thrusts. Ravaged by ravaged, Aziraphale is looking at the Fallen with lapis lazuli eyes, with the reverence and worship only an angel could exhibit— one of loyalty and grace— only slightly tainted by lust. </p>
<p>"Crowley!" He cries out in return, their essences joining together, bliss burning white-hot in his veins. Twitching, the cock in between them paints their abdomens white as Aziraphale's muscles clench around the demon's cock, milking him for all he's worth.</p>
<p>The high fades too fast for Crowley’s liking. He’d like to bask in Aziraphale’s light, just like he basks in the rays of the Sun. When he was still pure, a celestial embrace lasted so much longer than four meager seconds.</p>
<p>But it’s almost okay. He’s with Aziraphale, his angel, and that is enough. Crowley’s kiss is tender, full of gratitude, though a smug smile tugs on his lips already. </p>
<p>“So… Did you enjoy the treat, angel?”</p>
<p>“Well.” The angel shrugs, his prim tone contrasting harshly with his disheveled looks. “It wasn’t too bad. I’d even go as far as to say it was enjoyable. I might come back for seconds.”</p>
<p>They laugh, then kiss, topping the utterly delicious affair to make it complete. </p>
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